


Don't Do Too Well

by chchchchcherrybomb



Series: The Desperate Type [19]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Established Relationship, Evan has a relapse, Evan is struggling, Jealousy, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post graduation anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb
Summary: Relationships are complicated. So is mental health. Evan graduates from college, expecting to find a job and to move in with Connor in the fall. But the months tick by. And his luck runs out. And things start to look pretty bad again.





	Don't Do Too Well

When Connor had told him about the summer internship, Evan had been surprised but happy. They were both up to their necks in final papers and studying for exams, and Connor had mumbled that he had gotten offered an internship in the archives at the library program he would be attending.

Evan had blinked, looking up from a twenty page paper he was finishing. “Oh! That’s.. Really...great!” It was really great.

Connor had bit his lip then. Evan looked at him then, and braced himself for the bad news. “What?” Evan said.

“It’s this… it’s this summer. It would start in June.”

“Oh.”

“I’d have to move up there early.”

Evan nodded. They had talked at length about next year, about Evan trying to find a job where Connor would be in his grad program, but. Both of them had just sort of assumed that they’d have the whole summer to figure things out. Or. Well Evan had assumed they both assumed.  Connor had done an internship the summer before too, in D.C., and they had made that work. He was good at internships, Evan thought, he really liked them. He was an amazing intern. Evan had just hoped they would… would both be home that summer.

“Well. You should do it, obviously! I mean, that’s… that’s really cool, I mean, I didn’t even know you’d applied for any internships!”

“I didn’t think I’d get it,” Connor mumbled.

“I mean. Obviously you were… wrong about that,” Evan said, smiling. “I mean. You’ve got an impressive resume, like. Obviously you would get it. We’ll… we’ll work it out. It’ll be great.”

He wasn’t disappointed. He was genuinely excited for Connor. He even went with him to check out a few sublets on campus, since most of the leases didn’t start until August. Evan had a few leads on jobs, but they both just assumed they’d live apart until they could find a place together.

They graduated, and everything seemed to buzz with positive energy and possibilities.

And then it was June.

* * *

 

“So, hey.” Connor was sitting on the other side of the couch, home for the weekend. Evan was happy he was there; the pair of them were sitting together in the early afternoon while Evan applied for more jobs.

“Hey yourself,” Evan said, smiling at Connor.

“Are you sure you can’t come to Dave’s birthday dinner with me?”

Evan shook his head. “I wish I could, but I should probably try not to get fired.”

Connor nodded, but Evan didn’t miss the way he was frowning.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” He said. “I know it’s just a temporary job, but, you know… I’m trying to save up while I’m looking.”

“No, I know,” Connor said, smiling again. “I get it. It’s alright.”

“Say hi for me?”

Connor agreed.

Evan paused then. “Is… is Dave’s brother going to be there?”

Connor rolled his eyes, laughing. “Yes, Dalton will be there. And he’ll still be very, very straight. And very much not as great as my boyfriend.”

Evan felt his face heat up. “I’m not jealous…”

“You have no reason to be,” Connor said, eyebrows up. “Dalton is really nice but we’re just friends. Seriously, he looks too much like Dave… and Dana. It’s weird. Not sexy.”

“I know, it’s just…” It was just that Dalton was insanely attractive and nice and super smart and he and Connor had become besties suddenly after Dave’s daughter Finley was born and Evan had been. Surprised. To say the least. Because Connor didn’t make friends fast. Connor usually didn’t hang around with too many people outside of their little group, and he definitely didn’t hang out with sexy soccer players who made a bunch of jokes about _The Office_ that made Connor laugh like crazy over texts. He’d only met him for a minute at their graduation party, and somehow that had made the whole thing so much worse. “I’m being stupid. It’s… Ignore me.”

“No, come on, let’s talk about this,” Connor said, taking Evan’s hand and looking at him earnestly. “Are you really worried about that?”

Evan shrugged. He was but that seemed stupid. Petty. Like he didn’t trust Connor.

“He’s just my friend. Honestly. I only have eyes for you.”

Evan looked away, and Connor turned his face so they were looking at each other again. “Seriously.”

“I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not. It’s okay. Really. I mean. Look at me. I’m way, way worse when it comes to jealousy.” Evan smiled. He wasn’t wrong; Connor was the sort of jealous that just got anxious and sad and worried out loud that Evan would rather be with someone else. “I just want…. I want to make sure you know you don’t need to be worried, okay?”

“I know. I’m not really. It’s just… silly.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Evan frowned at the texts he got from Connor over the next few weeks. Apparently Dave’s brother was in the hospital, and Connor was spending a lot of his time on weekends visiting with Dalton. Not that Evan was being neglected, not in the slightest; Connor usually went over there to hang out with Dalton when Evan was working or sleeping or pretending to be doing one of those things.

But.

Well.

Connor was with Dalton a lot. And Evan was.

Being a massive huge idiot.

Or something.

_You’re not good enough for him. He’s found someone else but he’s too scared to tell you because he knows you’ll be gross and cry and freak out…_

Stop.

No.

Evan bit his lip. That was. That was ridiculous. Besides… Besides.

If anyone wasn’t…

No.

He was just being stupid. Everything was Fine. Fine fine fine. Connor had a friend and the friend was sick and Connor cared so he visited. That made sense. That checked. He didn’t need to be worried. Connor wouldn’t lie.

Connor wouldn’t.

At least Evan didn’t think.

He definitely wouldn’t lie.

Everything was finefinefinefinefine. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. It was fine fine fine fine.

Or so he tried to tell himself as he bit his fingernails and checked his phone and started to wonder if that was something he needed to be worrying about.

* * *

 

“Hey!” Evan smiled as hard as he could without forcing it. Even via facetime, he knew Connor would immediately suspect something. “How are you?”

Connor smiled, tucking a little strand of hair behind his ear. “Good, good. Looked at a few more apartments today....”

“See any that you like?”

Connor nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, there’s this one with a lofted bedroom that I like? It’s not too far from campus.”

Evan smiled, “Can you send me pictures?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, I’ll send them as soon as we hang up.”

“So what have you been up to?” Evan asked.

Connor told Evan about the work he was doing in the last week of his summer internship, working in the archives of the university he would be attending for his master’s degree, about his roommates in the sublet he had found for the summer trying to throw him a moving out party in the next couple of weeks, about how he had gotten an email from someone called Jules who was in his cohort come fall, also doing a coordinated degree in Library Science and Gender Studies. They were going to grab coffee later that week.

“I’m excited for you,” Evan said, smiling smilingsmilingsmiling. “I can’t wait to hear all about this person.”

“Heard anything back on the job search yet?” Connor asked, sounding kind of sheepish.  

Evan shook his head. “No, I-I haven’t.”

Connor frowned. “I’m sorry. I know that’s really stressing you out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Evan said, trying hard to smile. “I’m just going to keep looking. It’ll be fine.” Maybe if he kept telling himself that, it would be. It would be fine.

Connor nodded. “I know we haven’t really talked about it…” Connor said, pausing to bite his lip for a second. “But I am still… hoping you’ll end up finding something here.”

Evan nodded. “I know. Me too.” His smile faltered just a little. “I’m really trying. Really. I want to be there.” Because Connor said that he thought he was finally ready to move in together. Because this was a big chance to move forward in their relationship. And Evan was blowing it by not being able to find a job. Evan was blowing it.

“I know.” Connor was smiling again. “I’m not worried. You’re going to find something soon.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got to let you go,” Connor said after a little while of idle chatter about Evan’s job search, in which Evan found himself inventing places he had applied just to sound like he was applying to more places. Like he was trying. Like he wasn’t completely failing at this. He was just sitting at home, lying to his boyfriend, because apparently that was just a thing he did now. Forget their no-lies policy. Forget everything.  “I was supposed to call Zoe like half an hour ago.”

“Right. Go call her.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the pictures of the apartment right away. Love you.”

“Love you.”

The screen went dark.

Evan laid back on his bed. He was due at his shift at the stop gap job at Pottery Barn in an hour. He had taken the job in their stockroom, mostly second and third shift, back at the end of June when it became apparent that he wasn’t getting his dream job and moving away with Connor in the fall like he had planned. Hoped. He said it was so he would have mornings available to set up interviews… but mostly he just used the mornings to sleep into the afternoon.

Evan dragged himself out of bed. He hadn’t showered, even though he’d woken up at noon after doing an overnight. He hadn’t done anything all day, other than stare at his email inbox and change the front on his resume three times before settling back on Arial.

His phone vibrated; he scrolled through the photos Connor had sent of a sunny apartment with wood floors and a lot of windows. In one of the pictures, Evan could see there was a small balcony. It looked gorgeous.

It looked like Connor was hoping to split the rent with him.

Pottery Barn didn’t exactly pay him that kind of money.

In three weeks, it would be September. Connor would start on his master’s degree. Alana was starting medical school, Zoe already had an offer from a school where she had done some student teaching once their music teacher retired and she’d only decided to switch from music composition to music education in the middle of her sophomore year, Jared was working as a research assistant at some lab in the city. Even his mom was working as a paralegal in a big law office now, dating this guy Chris, smiling more and sometimes even singing in the shower as she got ready in the mornings when Evan was just crawling into bed.

Evan chewed on his thumbnail as he pulled out clean clothes for the day.

He was living with his mom. Working at Pottery Barn, a job he could have gotten in high school.

He blinked, sighing, shuffling out of his bedroom and across the hall into the bathroom. He was still here. Still home. Still living off his mom, still sleeping in his twin bed.

Well.

If he slept.

He hadn’t really been sleeping a lot this summer. Since Connor had left for his internship in June. He was only two hours away, and came home just about every other weekend, but Evan knew he wouldn’t be able to manage that once the semester started. He’d be busy.

Too busy to visit his pathetic boyfriend who was still living with his mom, anyway.

Evan dragged himself through his shower, dragged himself into his clothes, dragged himself into the living room to say goodbye to his mom, into the car he had bought off of Jared when Jared’s parents got him a new one as a graduation gift.

Evan felt like he was dragging himself around lately.

He kept telling himself it was temporary. Just a blip. Just until he got a real job. Just until things sorted themselves out.

But it sort of felt like the walls were closing in. The boat was sinking.

Time was running out.

His opportunities narrowing.

In some ways, Evan felt like if he didn’t get a job in the next three weeks that would let him move in with Connor, then he was trapped here forever.

He was stuck.

Evan ran a hand over his face as he turned the keys in the ignition and backed out of the driveway.

Stuck. He felt stuck.

He hadn’t had a call back in weeks on his resume. His cover letter was starting to read like it was written by a robot who was desperate to please, peppered with factoids about the environment. Last night, Evan had thought wistfully about just packing a bag and deciding to, like, bike the Appalachian Trail or something, so then at least he might be using his fucking degree, which sat in a fancy frame propped against the wall in his childhood bedroom, mocking him.

He also thought about just completely disappearing but he kept telling himself that he wasn’t really thinking about that at all.

He clocked in at Pottery Barn exactly three minutes early and set out to see the truck he would spend the night unloading.

It was mindless work, which only seemed to make Evan’s mind wander. He needed to find a new therapist, since he had stopped seeing Dr. Williams after moving away from school. Calling up Dr. Sherman seemed like a step backward… plus he thought Dr. Sherman worked primarily with teenagers and kids.

Evan was twenty two.

He wasn’t a kid, no matter how he felt sometimes.

He knew he needed to find a new therapist because his mind kept racing at work and there had been a time or two when he had become so overwhelmed that he had to use his fifteen minute break to catch his breath in the single stall unisex bathroom, which had a proper lock.

He needed a therapist because suddenly a verbal tic that had all but disappeared had booked a reunion tour. Evan was sorry, all the time. He was apologizing and stumbling over it, and apologizing for that. It was a nightmare, especially on the rare day shift when he worked the register or god forbid the floor. He was just full of apologies. And noticing them was freaking him out, completely. He needed a therapist, _sorry_.

He needed a therapist because the other day he tried to pick a fight with Connor over nothing just to feel like Connor cared. Which had backfired, and then Connor was annoyed with him and worried and started talking about coming home to check in on him, just in case.

Evan didn’t want that.

He didn’t want Connor to see what didn’t appear in the facetime videos. The unwashed hair, the half assed way he shaved. The fingernails, bitten until they bled. The fraying and unraveling seams of his pants from all of his constant picking at them.

Evan felt like he was fraying and unraveling. Like he was a massive failure. Like there was no escaping this feeling until someone just called him, just emailed him back, just.

Something.

* * *

 

He had two days off of work, mercifully. Two days he ought to have spent updating his resume and polishing his cover letter and applying to more jobs when it happened.

An email back.

He managed to read “Dear Mr. Hansen…” before he started choking on the air around him, suddenly too thick, too hard to breathe.

Evan couldn’t take it. He couldn’t. Somehow this was the last straw. He slammed his laptop shut and threw his phone across the room, crawling back under his covers.

“We would love to meet with you to discuss an opportunity doing research for…”

He kept seeing the words in his mind’s eye.

He kept waiting for the bubble of excitement, of relief, of _finally an email back_!

But all he found was blind panic, total chaos.

He was terrible in interviews. His hands would sweat and his knees would shake and his voice would break and he’d talk too fast and he’d sweat through his dress shirt and then try to make a joke about having anxiety that would fall so flat that the whole thing would be worse than just his sweating and puberty voice. Plus if they offered him an interview, he’d need to pick out clothes. Picking out clothes meant asking his mom, who would tell him she was proud of him, and he’d sit there the whole time with a sick feeling in his stomach because if he bombed the interview he’d be failing her and he was definitely going to be failing her because he bombed every interview he’d ever had except for the one for the Eco Club and that didn’t count because the interviewer was his friend.

Failure. He was a failure. Why even look at the email when he’d inevitably fuck it up somehow? His stomach was compressing in on itself, his brain seemed to throb, and he just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until all of this went away.

He wanted it all to go away.

He wanted to be a kid again, ten, maybe even six, and the biggest worries he had were who he might play with at recess. Sure, his dad left at that age, but at least he wasn’t paralyzed by life changing decisions then. Just. Small ones. Little ones. Ones that didn’t matter.

If he fucked this up, would he matter?

Did it even matter that was was fucking it up? Maybe none of them cared, nobody cared at all, and him making a big deal out of this was just him being self centered and narcissistic and seriously nobody cared at all if he got a real job. They all wanted him to quit complaining.

He wanted to quit complaining he wanted to quit everything he wasn’t ready for anything he wasn’t prepared for the real world he couldn’t even handle being in his real bedroom that he’d lived in all his life.

He hated this. Evan hated this. He felt like he was dying.

Worst of all it just got. Unbearably loud in his head. The sound of his own breathing was starting to make him question whether or not he could take another minute of being alive.

Which sent him spiraling again.

_Was this it? Was it finally back? Did he want to die, would he try again, would he fail again? Was he sick again, was he sick again washesickagain?_

Evan couldn’t deal. He couldn’t take it.

Every second that ticked by he knew he ought to respond to that email. Maybe it wasn’t even anything promising. Maybe it was. Maybe every second he didn’t answer the email he was throwing away an opportunity that he knew he ought to, had to, needed to take but he just couldn’t make his fingers move to do it, which meant every single second he watched go by reminded him that he was fucking this up he was failing he was actively choosing to fail.

When he finally managed to crawl across his floor to pick up his phone, Evan switched off notifications.  Then he mindlessly scrolled through facebook to pass the time, trapped in bed with a headache stomach ache chest pain sore throat broken brain. Connor texted, Jared texted, Alana texted. He ignored them all, eventually turning off text notifications too.

He spent the full two days in bed. His mom asked about it. He feigned the flu. Just like he was twelve again. Said he was fine, just a stuffy nose and a sore throat and besides it was his weekend so he was just going to rest. His mom offered to bring him tea, and he rebuffed her, and they had a laugh about summer colds being the worst colds and Evan wanted to kill himself.

He was lying to his mom.

Faking sick.

Well a different kind of sick.

Ignoring the email. It had been nearly forty eight hours already, surely he had waited too long.

Evan shook his head trying to push away the thoughts that seemed to be feasting on his vulnerability, like they were starved, feral dogs who had just been waiting and waiting for a time when he was pathetic enough that they could attack again, make up for lost time.

It was just so loud in his head.

* * *

 

“Want to get lunch this week?”

It was a text from Zoe. She was home for the summer, working some job helping out with a music camp for local kids.

Evan stared at it.

Yes, he wanted to get lunch with Zoe. He wanted to sit across from her at a diner and make jokes about Jared being blind since he kept talking about getting lazic. He wanted her to steal fries off of his plate and tease him for being into her dorky librarian-in-training brother.

But he looked at his bloody cuticles and his bitten lips and his overlong hair because he just couldn’t make himself make an appointment to get it cut and he ignored the message. He felt the heaviness of the unanswered, unchecked emails sitting in his inbox like they were physically weighing on his chest. He had gotten a call earlier that went to voicemail and he ignored it. Evan looked at himself in the mirror and saw someone who was a person once upon a time but had become, by mistake, something like a tangled mess of live wires, firing at random. A marionette with a drunk puppeteer at the strings, all jerking and twitching not at all human anymore. He was wrecked. A mess. Bloody fingernails and blood pooling under his eyes and dark stubble and overlong hair.

The small saving grace of not having an iPhone was like Zoe wouldn’t know he had read her message.

So he ignored it. And he ignored the follow up text a couple of days later. He wondered if he stopped returning everyone’s calls and texts and emails if they would even notice. If he could just disappear, slip away, fade out until they all asked each other, “Wasn’t there another guy we talked to for a while?”

* * *

 

He had a facebook message from Tom when he got home from work that morning, and all it said was, “Hey did you lose your phone or something? My Teach for America placement starts soon, we should pick a weekend for you to come visit!”

Evan went to bed without answering the message.

* * *

 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

Evan tried to put a smile into his voice. When Connor asked to video chat, Evan pretended that he had a big pimple and tried to beg off the call entirely. Connor asked if they could just call on the phone, something about how hearing Evan’s voice was better than nothing, and Evan relented because if he said no for another phony reason Connor would _notice_.

Evan felt like his job right now was to keep Connor from noticing things.

“Yeah, sure, sorry. Why?”

Evan heard the way it came out. He flinched at the way it came out. Damn it. Fuck.   _“Yeahsuresorrywhy.”_ Panicked. Rushed. _Obvious_. He was a shitty liar.

“You just seem…” Connor’s voice went hesitant. Evan found it unnerving. Usually Connor toed the line of directness to the point of being borderline rude.

_Borderline? Really._

Evan could practically see Connor rolling his eyes, assuming it was a stupid pun.

“...I dunno. You just seem. I dunno.” Connor sighed on the other side of the line. “Zoe said she texted you to get lunch and you never got back to her.”

“Oh. Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t get anything.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“My phone’s been… doing a, a thing.”

Silence hit the line. Again. Evan could hear Connor breathing on the other side and tried not to picture him sitting on his bed, frowning, like he was trying to work out what Evan was saying.

“Maybe I’m reading too much into it… But. I mean... Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No! Of course not!” Evan put deliberate space between the words.

“I know I’ve been hanging out with Dalton more lately, but he’s going through some shit and-”

“You didn’t do anything. Promise. I think I just... miss you. That’s all. Just having a hard time with… that.”

“I miss you too,” Connor said. Evan missed him even more for saying that.

“I guess the apartment thing kind of… freaked me out,” Evan said.

“Oh.” Hurt. Pained. Oh.

“Just… just because I don’t have a job or anything,” Evan said, backtracking. Damn it damn it. “I want to… I want to be there. I just. It’s not fair to you for me to be there and not be. You know. Contributing.”

“Is there anything I can do? You’ve just seemed a little… more anxious than usual lately. I already told you I could cover us both for a little while, if you know, being here would help? You could use my address on applications, even… I. Sorry. That’s… not coming across the way I want it too. I don’t want to push you in any particular direction. It’s just. You seem. You’ve seemed really anxious the last couple of times we talked and I… is there anything I can do to help?”

“I mean. Maybe a little anxious,” Evan lied. “Just, you know. The job search. It’s a little… disheartening.” _Because I can’t bring myself to check my email. Because I got a voicemail and then I had a panic attack. Because I’m ruining this for myself and I don’t even know why._

“Totally. Can I help? Send you stuff that I come across, help proof your cover letter…?”

“NO!” It came out like a yelp. Evan cleared his throat. “Sorry. Sorry, no, I. I’m sorry. That’s so sweet of you to offer, I appreciate it, but I think I’ve got it covered. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Connor sounded really apprehensive then. “Are you working this weekend?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“All weekend?”

“Yeah, pretty much, yeah. Sorry.”

“Evan.”

“Yes?”

“You’re sure you’re okay? Really?”

“Fine. Just stress. Really. Promise.”

“You’re just apologizing a lot…. That was kind of a thing for you for a while there.”

“Sorry.”

_Damn it._

“I just mean. I don’t know what I mean.”

“Maybe I should come home… I’m not really doing anything this weekend. We could hang out before you go to work?” He sounded worried, or hopeful, or sad. Evan didn’t know. “I know you’re busy, but maybe-”

“No!”

“Have you talked to your mom?” Connor said after a moment.

That was. Something of a rule with them. That you don’t suggest bringing your mom into something unless things had surpassed things that could be handled on your own. Evan had played the mom card a handful of times; Connor never had.

“Maybe just talk to her about what’s been going on? I’m sure she’d-”

“And tell her _what_ , exactly?” Evan said, heatedly. “That everything’s getting all _fucked_ up again because I’m a _massive loser_ who can’t get his shit together? Because you know, normally? _Normally_ I am the one with my shit together, actually.. N-normally it’s me fixing shit for you, looking out for you, freaking out about _you_. I’m the one who has it together. So… So maybe. Maybe I’m just having a bad couple of days and I don’t need you getting freaked just because I’m the one who needs attention for a change. Maybe I ought to just tell my mom that, huh?”

There was silence on the line.

Evan felt an acute pain under his ribs, the place where he kept Connor, a twinge of shooting pain. _Ohgodohgodohgodwhathadhedone_?

“Fuck, Connor… I. I’m s-sorry. Sorry, I’m just… I’m having a bad day. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Right.”

“I’m being, you know, dramatic. Over the top. Ignore me, really, I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Evan…”

“Ignore me. I’m fine. I’m just… I’m just being an asshole, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just ignore me, please. Okay? Please don’t tell my mom.  I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried.”

“ _Don’t_. Please don’t.”

“I know you’re working, but I think I’m going to come home Friday afternoon anyway. We can get lunch, dinner, whatever works okay?”

“Connor, _don’t_.” Evan could feel the panic climbing up his throat, choking him. If Connor came home, he was going to see the mess Evan had been frantically trying to hide for the past month or so. The fidgeting, the clothes all over, the number of ignored texts on his phone, his unchecked email inbox. The voicemail left by someone about a job at the county parks department that he had played four times, but never returned the call. The fact that he was completely failing was going to be totally obvious if Connor saw him, physically saw him, because Evan was a wreck. He’d see the disaster and he’d decide it was too much for him, which Evan had been waiting for all along, really, to see Connor get over him completely and he’d leave and be away at school and Evan would be alone again like he was freshman year and then he’d do stupid shit like kiss strangers and get scarily drunk only Tom wouldn’t be around to save his ass again and so he’d probably end up tortured and murdered and his mom would be so pissed because she’d probably have to ask the Murphys for money to cover the funeral costs and Connor would blame himself and fall off the deep end again and they’d both end up dead and-

“Don’t come home.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t… I just don’t… I don’t want to see you, okay, sorry, I just.”

“Evan.”

He was hyperventilating. _Right_.

“Evan. _Hey_.”

“Please don’t come.”

“O-okay. Fine. I won’t. Can you breathe? Are you-”

“Just don’t come okay? Please. Don’t come.”

Evan hung up the phone. Curled into himself, desperately trying to slow his breathing, finding the harder he tried the worse it got. It felt like tight bands had snapped around his chest, keeping him from properly breathing, his hands were shaking, his head was swimming…

There was a knock on his door.

He needed to get up and answer it, it was probably his mom, he needed to get up but he couldn’t move or think couldn’tbreathethinkmove….

“Evan, honey, is everything okay? Connor just called me, he sounded really worried-”

Evan was on his feet, opening the door, pushing past his horrified mother, just taking off, going, getting as far away as he could manage. He’d grabbed his keys, when did he get his keys, and just sped off, taking off, no phone, just gone gone gone gone gonegonegone.

* * *

He stopped, eventually, because he had no fucking gas, but it wasn’t far enough, it wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t.

He was hurting them, all of them,Connor and his mom,he was hurting them all again because he couldn’t… couldn’t get it together.

It was about then, finally grabbing his hands away from the steering wheel of his car, that he realized where he’d driven.

Objectively, he thought by now the county would have taken it down. It was old and out of use and rusty and an eye sore. It was dangerous and useless and they should have taken it down years ago. Because kids kept thinking about throwing themselves off it.

Now that he was here, Evan wished terribly that he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to remember one of the worst days of his life, the begging pleading crying to get Connor back on the ground because Evan knew, at seventeen, that he couldn’t lose him. And now Evan knew, at twenty two, that he almost certainly would.

He was out of the car.

He thought…

Evan didn’t know precisely what he thought… Just that once he closed the car door, it was like his feet operated without consulting him.

Evan stared up at the water tower. And tired to remember what it felt like to stand up there. To be sure he was going to die, to end it.

His feet moved tentatively toward the base.

Things weren’t really that bad, were they?

He was overreacting, he was just being stupid, he…

Wanted to be here.

And didn’t know how to deal with that.

He didn’t. He wasn’t. He couldn’t.

He was standing there at the base of the water tower, completely at a loss, out of gas and out of breath and out of chances to turn back and fix this.

He sunk down, sitting against the base, his head in his hands, his knees pulled into his chest.

* * *

His arms and legs were cramped because he hadn’t moved in a while. The temperature had dipped. It was cool and it had started to rain.

Evan had finally stopped crying and hyperventilating. He’d thrown up a few times only to stumble back to where he was sitting at the base of the water tower, curled up, curled in on himself. He felt totally, completely empty.

He had no way home.

His mom knew something was going on, Connor knew.

Evan realized, distantly, that the only thing keeping him from climbing to the top of that water tower was his total lack of inertia. He had no energy, much like he’d had none all summer. He was stuck. Frozen. Paused indefinitely.

He heard another car drive by.

Then another.

How long had it been? He was such a massive inconvenience, would anyone think to look for him here?

He should just climb up the damn thing. Make the fact that everyone was wasting their time looking for him at least worth it, closure or something.

He wiped his nose. He probably ought to have planned this better. Last time he didn’t plan it…

His arm twinged a little. Referred pain or something.

His chest ached. He should have planned this better. At least said goodbye.

Not that any of them would really want that. Inconvenience.

Evan sighed. He would count to three and stand up, even though his arms and legs were exhausted and shaking. He would.

 _One_.

A breath.

He never made it to two. A car peeled off the road and squealed to a stop. A door opened and slammed closed and Evan, even though he was certain he didn’t have any tears left in him, began to sob in earnest.

He remembered the day he found Connor here a little too vividly. His forced calm, the opening line he hadn’t rehearsed at all that came out sarcastic as hell, _“Hey you’re two weeks early.”_

Obviously Connor had looked for him there. From the looks of it, he had sped all the way from school. He didn’t look good when he looked at Evan.

He didn’t have a sarcastic opening line. He didn’t say, “Hey you’re four years late.” He didn’t really say much at all, just ran straight to Evan and started to check him, like maybe he’d hurt himself without realizing it.

“You… Please don’t scare me like that,” Connor said, looking at him hard, arms on Evan’s shoulders.

Evan tried to nod, he thought, he wasn’t sure. He felt like a collapsing building, like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Connor put his arms around him, and Evan just. Cried until he couldn’t anymore. For the second time in an hour. The the millionth time in his life.

When he got quieter, he heard Connor say, “You don’t usually let your hair get this long.”

Evan sniffed. “Yeah, I, um…” He tried to clear his throat, sit up, get himself a little more together, but Connor didn’t let him go. “It’s been a bad few months.”

“Yeah. I figured that.”

Evan chanced a look up at Connor. His eyes were red, and he was wiping his face with his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, voice small.

Connor shook his head. “No. Don’t. Just. Not right now.” He let Evan sit up then, and Evan suddenly realized how his legs and butt were numb from sitting on the cold gravel for hours. He watched Connor get to his feet and then offer Evan a hand up.

When Evan looked at his boyfriend’s face…

Connor looked pissed.

“How mad are you right now?” Evan asked in an even smaller voice.

Connor shook his head, and Evan watched the way he curled his hands into tight fists and took a deep breath through his nose. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, okay, I get it. You get to be mad. I’m sorry.”

“Evan, please don’t with the I’m sorry shit, okay?” Connor said, shaking his head.

“But I-”

“I’m pissed that you _lied_ ,” Connor said, his voice low and cutting and Evan felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. “Obviously.”

“Wh-what?”

“We don’t lie to each other. That’s like… it’s a thing we do. And I trusted you to tell the truth, and you’ve been… you’ve been lying to me for over a month!”

“I didn’t…” Evan said, shaking his head helplessly. “You’ve got, school, and you know with-with your internship and-and-and whatever happened with Dalton and everything I just-just.” He stopped. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Connor, if possible, looked even more angry. His face started to go red and blotchy. “So worry me then! I can handle worrying if I know something’s actually wrong! What I can’t handle is you lying to me, telling me everything’s fine, making me think I’m literally imagining that you don’t seem great. I can’t handle that.”

Evan knew was going to start crying again. The rational part of his brain understood that completely. He’d lied, he’d fucked up, he’d worried everyone.

But the louder, more prominent part of his brain was recoiling at the fact that Connor was yelling. And then he was in tears again.

“I know the lying…. I know it’s like an anxiety thing and sometimes you can’t help it. I get that, really, just. It’s just. I wish you would have at least _tried_ to tell me.”

“When?” Evan said, but it came out like a pitiful hiccup, a sad pathetic mewl. “You’re never _here_.”

Connor shook his head, like he was disbelieving, walking a few steps away, a hand tangled in his hair. “So I guess you lied about that too, then? You weren’t okay with me taking the internship?”

“I-I… I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you mean, right? Anything else you’re lying about? Anything else I ought to know?”

Evan shook his head because honestly, if there was, his mind was blank with panic. He had no idea. He didn’t know what he’d had for breakfast. If he couldn’t look, he wouldn’t be sure what color shirt he was wearing. He was just. All fucked up. A disaster. He pressed his eyes closed, tight tight tight, knotting his fingers in the hem of his shirt, trying to keep his breathing out of the range of throwing up.

He pulled his eyes open when he heard Connor cough and clear his throat. He had a tell, when he cried, but Evan never told him that because he was afraid then it would disappear.  Sometimes it was hard to tell because Connor tended to pretend he’d never cried in his life. Was that a lie?

Connor wiped his face forcefully. Took a deep breath. Wiped his face again. “I… I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry. I. I’m just. Scared. This has been a scary fucking day and I’m freaking out, and. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Connor nodded.

“I didn't… I didn’t mean it. What I said before, about… about you being the sick one,” Evan said, quiet. “I’m… that was stupid and not true and I’m sorry.”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t think this is a conversation I can have right now.”

Evan recoiled, feeling like a child who had been scolded at school for talking out of turn. But he nodded.

“We should get out of here,” Evan said.

Connor nodded. Then looked at Evan, hard. “Where am I taking you?”

Not where are we going.

But where was Connor taking him.

Evan swallowed hard, shaking his head. He didn’t know. He didn’t know where to go, literally, he just didn’t know.

“If I take you home, will you be safe there?” Connor asked.

Evan shrugged, shaking his head, shrugging again. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. His brain couldn’t make that decision.

“I’m going to take you to the hospital then. Is that okay? At least then they can make sure you’re, like, physically okay...”

Evan nodded.

They walked back to Connor’s car in silence, leaving Evan’s on the side of the road.

Last time they had left there, they had been laughing, joking. Hopeful, just a little. They’d decided, together, not to die.

Now leaving felt like a defeat, a massive failure that Evan couldn’t even put into words.

* * *

Being in the hospital was mostly boring. Evan didn’t really remember that from last time. Last time, he’d been frantic. Last time, he hadn’t been alone.

He was allowed visitors, but he knew he was a bad conversation partner. His mom kept smiling these big, bright, blinding smiles at him. They hurt his eyes, made him squint like he’d stepped out of a movie theatre into a bright afternoon. Connor hadn’t shown since Evan checked in two days before.

“How is everything going?” His mom asked.  

Evan shrugged. He missed the strings on this hoodie. He usually tugged them anxiously. “It’s alright.” The psychiatrist he was seeing was a friendly older lady. She was pretty no-nonsense, which Evan appreciated because he never trusted doctors who wanted him to try meditating once they met him and noticed he never seemed to catch his breath.

The visit passed awkwardly. Evan was grateful she was there, but he also wished she didn’t have to see him like this. He wanted to ask where the fuck his boyfriend was, but couldn’t seem to find the words.  

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” his mom said, leaning over and hugging him tightly. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

He picked at his dinner. He felt stupidly incompetent, looking out over the other people who were all grouped together. Evan was such a loser that he didn’t even have anyone to sit with in the psych ward. Typical.

“This seat taken?”

Evan looked up. A kid, maybe a little younger than him, pointed to one of the empty seats at the table. “No. Go for it.”

The kid nodded gratefully and sat down. He had floppy curly hair. Evan stared back down at his food, not really interested in eating it. He stirred his peas with his fork disinterestedly.

“Wait. Shit. I know you.”

Evan looked up, feeling the blood drain from his face. “What?”

“You’re Evan. Connor’s your boyfriend.”

Evan nodded.

“Dalton. Dave’s brother. We met for like a minute at Connor’s graduation party.”

Oh. Right. They had.Technically speaking, it was also Evan’s graduation party. His mom kept anxiously thanking the Murphys for hosting. She’d been up late all week prepping food because she wasn’t just going to let Mrs. Murphy handle everything. Evan was pretty grateful, since Cynthia’s cooking wasn’t especially good.

“Oh. Yeah.” Evan cleared his throat. “Hi,” he added lamely.

“Hi.” Dalton gave him a half hearted smile. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were either,” Evan said. It came out a lot more caustic than he meant it to. Dalton’s eyes widened for a second before he cast them down at his food.

“Sorry.”

“No, I…” Evan bit his lip. “I’m. Sorry. I… Things haven’t been good, and I just. I’m not… Myself. I’m sorry.”

Dalton nodded.

Evan stared down at his food again.

“Is… is everything…” That was wrong. Obviously everything wasn’t okay.  “I mean. H-how are you?”

“Don’t you mean, ‘what are you doing here?’” Dalton asked. It wasn’t rude, just honest, but it still put Evan on edge. “My new meds. Made me really sick, so I’m here while they figure out some new ones.”

Evan nodded. He knew, from Connor, that Dalton had recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Not that Connor had said much else about it. But Evan knew meds could be tricky with that.

“You?”

Evan shrugged. There wasn’t a good way to say you’d been passively suicidal for months. That his anxiety had totally spiked, worse than last time, worse than high school, and he’d been actively avoiding everyone who cared about him, that it had reached a point of near-agoraphobia, that he kept his phone off most of the time and last week genuinely emailed his mom to ask her to pick up more bread instead of talking to her face to face.

“Anxiety,” Evan said after a moment. “I’ve… I’ve got like, um, really bad anxiety?”

Dalton nodded. Said something about a panic disorder. Evan nodded back. The conversation had exhausted him. Which was stupid. He’d said like five things, tops. But still he was exhausted. He ended up slinking off to his room to sleep during his free time.

He saw Dalton at group the next morning. He kept reaching up, like he was going to pull a string on his hoodie that wasn’t there.

After group, Dalton found him. “Have you heard from Connor?”

Evan shook his head. “We… I think… we’re in a fight. He hasn’t been here. Why?”

Dalton shrugged. “I was wondering how he was doing.I guess I was… surprised. That I didn’t know you were here. Since he talks about you all the time.”

Evan imagined he was angry. And angry Connor was rarely a good thing, honestly. Anger tended to derail him. Evan had seen him punch walls, had seen him slash tires, had seen the violent angry cuts along his arms.

Of course this time it was all Evan’s fault because he was a fucking liar.

It made sense that Connor was angry.

But it was very unusual for Connor to be angry _at_ him. Like this. For a real reason, a valid one.

“He does?” Evan said, stupidly.

Dalton blinked in surprise. “I mean. Yeah. He’s literally always talking about you. I’ve been, you know, sort of hoping to get to know you better this summer but… well…” He shrugged down at his sweats.

“I screwed up,” Evan said suddenly. “I… I’ve been lying to him, like, all summer. Saying… saying I was fine, and that everything was-was, you know, good. But. It’s… not. It’s been bad, and I lied, and I was all resentful of him, you know, not lying about shit… and.” Evan took a deep breath. “Oh my god, I am so sorry I just unloaded all of this on you out of nowhere and that was super unfair. This… this is literally like the third time we’ve ever spoken and I’m telling you all of my relationship crap, ohmygodI’msosorry.”

Dalton smiled at him in a way that was far kinder than Evan deserved. “It’s. Like. It’s totally fine.”

“It’s not though. Like. You’re… ” Evan had no words to adequately describe precisely _what_ Dalton was. He was. The person he’d spent months being painfully, agonizingly jealous of, who seemed to understand Connor in a way that Evan just didn’t, who clearly wasn’t a total disaster like Evan was.

Who was in the psych ward with him.

“You don’t have to listen to my-my garbage.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Still,” Evan said, looking down at his toes.

Dalton nodded. “I mean. Yeah. I… get where you’re at. I’m an overflowing dumpster of garbage right now.”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry.”

Dalton shrugged. “It’s just. After the whole thing at Dave’s party… I haven’t actually. Talked to him.”

“What happened at Dave’s party?” Evan asked, his brow furrowed.

Dalton looked surprised. “Oh. I assumed Connor would have told you.” He related how he hadn’t been sleeping. How he had totally freaked out on Dave at his birthday party, shouting at him, chucking a glass at his head, and running out the door. How he went missing for twelve hours and the police found him and had him involuntarily committed. How he’d spent weeks in the psychiatric hospital after being diagnosed bipolar; how the whole thing had come to a head with a manic episode. How he still hadn’t spoken to his brother.

“Wow,” Evan said. “That… that sounds really hard.”

Dalton shrugged, reaching blindly at his chest before his hand fell back to his side. “It wasn’t… great.”

Evan nodded.

“He’ll get over it,” Dalton said suddenly. “Connor. I’m no expert, but, um. I think he’s probably just. You know. Worried.”

Evan nodded. “Yeah.”

“He’s like… super in love with you,” Dalton added, looking thoughtful. “It’s like. It’s really cute? I dunno. He’s very Jim about it. Huge goober. I dunno.”

“Jim?” Evan said.

Dalton’s ears turned pink. “Like Jim Halpert, on _The Office_? He’s, like, super in love with the receptionist Pam. And you can just… tell. By the way he talks about her. Connor’s like that. With you.”

“Oh.” He felt his cheeks turn pink. “Okay.”

* * *

Evan paced in front of the phone. He missed his phone, but he’d turned that over…

_Just pick up the phone._

He bit his lip.

Just pick up the phone.

Just call him.

Just call.

Evan chewed on the skin of his thumb, sighing. He was on new anxiety meds. He didn’t feel so keyed up. He stared at the phone.

He picked it up. Dialed.

It rang three times.

“Hello?”

“Hi… Connor. It’s. Me. It’s Evan…”

“I know. Hi.”

“I’m…” Evan realized suddenly that he didn’t have anything planned to say. “I’m. Sorry. I’m really sorry. Are you… how are you?”

“Not great,” Connor said, sighing. “I’ve been sleeping on Dave’s couch for a couple of days.”

“Oh,” Evan said. The last time Connor had done that was when they broke up. Evan chewed his thumb again. Had they broken up? Was this it for them? “H-how’s that?”

“Could be worse. Mostly I’ve been hanging out with Finley.” Connor’s voice sounded tired, scratchy. “I’m sorry that I haven’t visited.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. You… I understand.”

“I can come today… If you want.”

“Okay,” Evan said. “That would be… nice.”

“Okay,” Connor said.

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.”

“Awesome.”

Evan smiled. “Did you know Dalton was here?”

“I did. I found out two days ago.”

“He’s… he’s really nice.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry… that I’ve been all jealous… And lying about it. That’s… it’s not fair to you. None of this has been fair to you.”

“It’s alright. We’ll… we can talk about it. Just… how are you? I’ve been kind of driving myself crazy worrying about you.”

Evan almost smiled. “I’m… I’m okay, now, I mean. I guess. More okay. I feel less… just less.” Crazy. Suicidal. Overwhelmed. “I feel a little better. They’re… um. They’re switching up my meds? And I’m.. I’m gonna start seeing someone here? Like, regularly.”

“That’s good.”

Evan sighed. “I know… I know this isn’t, like, you know. The greatest timing. Like…” Evan sucked in a deep breath. “We had a plan, and I… I messed things up.”

“No,” Connor said, and it was… almost harsh. “Don’t do that, okay? This shit… it happens. I mean. I wish it didn’t. It sucks that it happens, but I’d rather… I’d rather you just focus on getting better, and we can deal with the other stuff as it comes.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to visit? Because, I’ve gotta be honest… I look like shit and I’ve been wearing the same clothes for like three days. So I’ve gotta, like, get it together a little first.”

“I mean. If you can…”

“Yeah. I can.”

Evan smiled. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

 

That night Connor visited for a few hours. He and Evan and Dalton all played an unenthusiastic game of Uno. But it was nice. Dalton and Connor cracked a few weird jokes that Evan didn’t understand, but for once it wasn’t… scary. It was just, sort of like the way that Evan and Tom or Evan and Jared talked. People develop languages with the people they love, and it wasn’t weird that Evan wasn’t fluent in this one. He spoke Evan-and-Connor, and that was totally fine.

* * *

 

It was the end of September. Connor was officially a graduate student. He and Evan still texted nonstop. Evan, for his part, kept his job at Pottery Barn. Saw his therapist twice a week. Hung out with his mom and Chris a lot.

Sometimes exchanged memes with Dalton, who was back in Florida to finish school.

Sometimes Dave and Aletheia invited him over for dinner, and he’d get to hang around Finley, who was starting to really talk now.

Sometimes things were fine.

Sometimes they weren’t. Evan had a bad few days at the start of the month.

But it wasn’t… so bad. To tell his mom and Connor about it. They were understanding. And accommodating. And Connor even came home the first weekend of school, just to spend some time together.

And things were… okay.

Evan was visiting Connor that weekend, for the weekend. Thursday night to Sunday. In the apartment that could have been theirs, but wasn’t.

The drive wasn’t too bad. The weather was nice.

So was Connor’s apartment. Evan had a key. He had a key to a place he had never been, since he had spent a second weekend in the hospital when Connor moved in here.

He’d been instructed to let himself in when he got there, because Connor was trapped in a two and a half hour long introduction to Gender and Women’s Studies seminar. Since apparently a singular master’s degree wasn’t enough for Connor. Since he was doing two.

Evan let himself into the apartment, following the instructions Connor had texted him. He had the unit at the end of the hall. When Evan walked in, the first thing that struck him was just how… sunny it was. Connor sort of presented like a gloomy person, one who’d rent a basement apartment and pull heavy shudders down over the windows to block out the sun.

But there was sun everywhere. There was light streaming in from all directions; there was even a skylight. The downstairs was a living space and a kitchen. Evan smiled, noticing that Connor had obviously cleaned up. There were books stacked neatly on the coffee table. There were dishes drying by the sink. There were a couple of small plants in the windowsill. Evan could see they’d been freshly watered.

Evan smiled. Then headed up the steps, bag still in hand. The upstairs was a lofted bedroom, not a full floor. Evan peaked over the half wall, down into the living room. This room was a little more decorated. Photos of Evan and Connor at prom, high school graduation, and college graduation all lined the walls. A picture of Connor and Zoe, holding up their arms to show off their matching tattoos. Connor with Finley in the hospital, right after she was born. Evan and his mom and Connor all smiling at their graduation party this summer.

It looked like a room that belonged to a happy person. Evan wondered if that meant that Connor was, in fact, happy.

Connor’s bed was made, and Evan spied a note placed on top of the covers.

And smiled.

_“Hi._

_Welcome home! Or well… maybe home someday! Welcome regardless. I shouldn’t have written this in pen. I was just trying to be cute and it’s already backfired. Ah well. Can’t blame me for trying._

_Make yourself at home (literally). Fridge is totally stocked – Aletheia forced me to go shopping with her so there are even vegetables if you’re so inclined. The tv is already hooked up to Netflix and whatever. I should be home about five. The wifi password is ILoveTrees. No, I’m not kidding. That’s really the password._

_I’m so glad you’re here._

_See you tonight._

_Love you._ ”

Evan smiled stupidly at the note. He sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up a pillow and holding it to his chest. Everything in the room smelled like Connor.

It smelled like home.

He was happy to be here. He wasn’t overwhelmed or dreading it. The apartment was nice, but every piece of furniture didn’t mock him for not living here. He had been expecting the worst. Instead what he found was… fine. Okay. Not perfect, but alright.

Connor walked in at five o’clock exactly. Evan had been half watching an episode of the _The Office._ Dalton and Connor were rubbing off on him.

Evan hugged him tightly the second he was able to cross the room.

“Hi,” He said, a little breathless.

“Hi,” Connor repeated. His cheeks were a little pink from being outside. Evan wanted to kiss them. “How are you?”

Evan kind of ducked his head. “A lot better, actually.”

“Good.”

Evan didn’t have time for their little inside joke. He just kissed Connor instead.

“I’m really glad that you’re here.”

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)" by Fall Out Boy.


End file.
